IT MAKES YOU THINK
by Patcat
Summary: Thoughts
1. Chapter 1

IT MAKES YOU THINK

Chapter One

Bobby Goren knew something was wrong the moment he stepped from the elevator. The hall outside the Major Case Squad was empty and eerily quiet. He walked cautiously into the bullpen and discovered the squad's members huddled around a television set in the middle of the room.

"What's going on?" Bobby quietly asked a uniformed cop on the crowd's edge.

The cop tilted his head in Bobby's direction, but his attention remained on the TV. "Couple of cops shot," he said. "They were answering a domestic disturbance call."

Bobby's heart felt like lead. He'd heard this story before, and the ending was rarely good.

"The shooter's holed up in his house with his ex and kids…"

"Damn," Bobby muttered. "They negogiating…"

The cop shook his head. "Don't know. The SWAT team is there, but hasn't gone in."

Bobby saw Alex near the front of the crowd. She watched the screen with great tension and sadness.

"They know who the two cops are?" Bobby asked.

"Yea…I don't know them…And from what the reporter on the TV said, it doesn't sound good…"

Bobby looked up at the TV screen. Inside his head he calculated how long it'd been since he'd given blood.

"People."

The crowd turned to face Captain Danny Ross who'd just stepped out of his office.

"I've just got word on the two cops. They're at St. Clare's. A watch is starting. Anyone who wants to go and give blood has clearance to go. I need a couple of people to stay and be around."

"I'll stay," Bobby offered quickly. "I can give blood later." Bobby also hoped he could avoid a huge gathering of cops.

"Me, too," Zach Nichols said from the other side of the room. "I can't give blood right now. Too soon…"

"And I can't," Megan Wheeler said. "I can stay."

"I'll stay with my partner and go later," Alex said.

Ross regarded his detectives skeptically.

"Not the quartet you'd pick?" Nichols asked.

"Just don't burn down the building," Ross said after a moment.

"Captain," Bobby said. "Please let us know how the two cops are doing."

"I will," Ross said. As the Captain joined other cops in the elevator, he wondered that while Robert Goren wasn't the most welcomed members of the NYPD blue tribe, he was always one of the first to leap to the aid of any of its other members.

Bobby sat at his desk and tried to concentrate on paperwork. Of the four detectives remaining in Major Case, he thought that only Zack Nichols was doing a decent job of paying attention to his work. He looked across his desk at Alex who wasn't even trying to hide that she was far more interested in the TV than in her work.

"Do you know anything about the cops?" Bobby asked softly.

"Yea…Rocco…Tony…He was in my class at the Academy. Everybody calls him Rocky because of his last name and because he boxed. He's a good cop. They put him with rookies to give them a good mentor."

"Family?"

"Married twenty years…He and his wife came to my wedding…" Alex looked sadly at the photo of the dog on her desk as she usually did in those few moments when she spoke about her late husband. "They have two kids. Oldest should be about to graduate high school."

"I…I'm sorry, Eames," Bobby said. "I didn't mean to upset you…"

"Bobby…Two cops are fighting for their lives…Everyone is upset…"

Bobby nodded, but said nothing. For all of his troubles with the NYPD, he was fiercely loyal to other cops. Alex, as much as she hated bad cops and the "buddy boy" system that protected them, was even more so.

"Something's happening," Wheeler said.

The television showed several people, including three children, fleeing from a house. A single figure emerged and dropped on the sidewalk; cops swarmed over him.

"It's over," Alex said.

A reporter appeared on the screen and gravely announced that George MacGuinness, a rookie cop who'd graduated with honors from the Academy, had just died from his wounds.

"Damn," Wheeler said softly.

A phone rang, causing the four detectives to jump. Nichols answered it and listened intently. "Ross," he said as he hung up. "Wanted to tell us about Officer MacGuinness. It doesn't look like the other officer will make it. The doctors are trying to keep him alive until his family arrives. Sorry, Eames."

Alex swallowed.

"I guess there's no need for us to give blood," Bobby muttered sadly.

"C'mon, Wheeler," Nichols said and stood up. "Let's go get some decent coffee. We're probably going to be holding down the fort for a while."

Wheeler nodded. "You guys want anything special?"

Bobby, his eyes on Alex, shook his head. "Just strong."

"Lots of sugar," Alex said. "Thanks…"

Alex and Bobby continued to work silently and steadily. Bobby tried to watch her without letting her know that he was watching her. She concentrated on the paperwork and forms in front of her, but he saw her hands shake. He cautiously leaned forward.

"Are you ok?"

Alex blinked. "I'm fine…Really…"

Bobby sensed she wasn't fine, but he didn't press the issue. Wheeler and Nichols returned bearing the welcome and good coffee. The four detectives briefly ceased work and concentrated on the television.

"I wonder if my dress blues still fit," Nichols said.

Bobby remembered the last time he wore his dress uniform. It was at the funeral of the former partner of Alex's late husband where Bobby learned from the dead man's son that he was considered a "whack job".

"I wonder if I'll fit in mine," Wheeler said.

"There are ways to fudge that," Alex said. "I can show you."

The scene on the television changed to a reporter outside a hospital. She announced that Sergeant Rocco had died of his wounds a few minutes earlier, and that his wife and children were at his side.

"Damn," Wheeler said again.

The four detectives returned silently to their desks. Other members of the Major Case Squad trickled back into the office. They moved with a heavy weight on their backs. Some carried the band aids and rolled up sleeves that marked a blood donor.

"Bad?" Bobby asked one detective as he walked by.

"Yea…The rookie had been married less than a month…Had a kid on the way…"

Bobby winced.

"This is going to be a hard one," the other cop said.

Bobby nodded. His attention turned to Alex, who spoke with several other cops on the far side of the office. "Thanks."

Major Case was horribly silent for the rest of the day. Bobby and Alex scarcely spoke to each other, both afraid of what they knew how to say and what they didn't know how to say. Near the end of the day, Ross emerged from his office.

"People," he said. "I've got information about the funerals."

What little activity and sound going on in the office ceased.

"Officer MacGuinness' wake will be tomorrow night. The funeral Mass will be Thursday morning at St. Martin des Porres in Harlem. Sergeant Rocco's wake will be Thursday night, with the funeral on Friday morning. It'll be at St. Anthony's on Staten Island. It goes without saying that everyone has leave for the funerals. I'd like Major Case to have a good showing, but I'll need volunteers to keep a skeleton staff around."

"I'll take any time you want, Captain," Bobby said.

"I will too," Nichols said.

"All right," Ross said. "Anyone else just let me know. I'll have more information for you as soon as I get it."

Alex looked at Bobby. "Do you want me to stay with you?"

"No…You go…Represent us. Besides," Bobby shrugged. "I may not be wanted."

"Bobby…"

"Let's be honest, Eames. A lot of cops wouldn't welcome me…You go…"

They spent the remainder of the day, like the rest of Major Case, pretending to work.

"See you tomorrow," Bobby said as he started to leave. He noticed that most of the Squad had already departed. "I'll bring some good coffee."

"Yea…"

"Listen." Bobby stepped closer to her. "You need anything…You give me a call. No matter what the time…Call me."

"But…"

"I won't be sleeping…Please…Call me if you need me…"

"Ok…"

Bobby usually enjoyed riding the subway. He studied his fellow passengers, wondering who they were and what they did, but tonight he stared at the subway floor and tried to ignore the newspapers' headlines and the radio someone held. Both had only the sketchiest of details, and the speculations of several passengers confirmed Bobby's conviction that civilians had only the slightest idea of what police work was like. Bobby was grateful when the train finally reached his stop. He stopped at a diner near his home and spent several minutes pushing food around his plate. He gave up, paid his bill, and left his usual healthy tip.

"Something wrong with your dinner, hon?" the waitress asked.

Bobby smiled wearily at her. They knew each other well enough to occasionally flirt with each other. It made Bobby feel better. It justified the large tips he left her. "The food's great…It's me…"

"I heard what happened…Must make you think…"

"Yea…Yea it does…"

He walked home, hoping that the cold air would clear his mind and the exercise wear him out. When he got home, he fought against turning on the TV, but finally switched on the news channel. As he expected, the murders were the dominant story. Bobby leaned forward in his chair and rubbed one of his large hands across his face. He know what the next days would bring—the wakes, the services, the grieving widows and crying children, the red eyed cops with their fixed stares—and he suddenly felt it was all too much. He turned off the TV and fell back against the couch.

"I wonder," he thought. "If anyone would come to my wake…My funeral…Besides Alex…"

His cell phone chirped with Alex's tone. "Hey," he said, guilty that he was grateful for the interruption of his dark thoughts.

"Hey…I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

"No…No wild parties here."

"It's all over the news," Alex said sadly.

"I…I know… I just shut my TV off…"

"My Mom called…"

Bobby thought he knew what that might be about. "Not a happy conversation?"

"Any time something like this happens…I get two calls…One from my Mom…One from my oldest brother Mike…Both suggesting I might want to find a safer profession…Or at least a safer spot…"

"I'm not going to defend them, Eames," Bobby said cautiously. "But they do care a lot about you."

"I know," Alex sighed. "I just wish they'd realize if they cared about me they'd let me do what I want. My Dad gets it."

"Well…Your Dad was a cop's cop. He gets it."

"Yea…"

A long silence followed, and Bobby wondered if he'd lost the connection.

"Bobby?"

"Yea…"

"Do you…Do you ever think about this sort of thing?"

"I…I try not to…But…Yea…I think about it. I don't think you're sane if you don't think about it. I…I was thinking about it when you called."

She was silent again, and Bobby wondered if he should have been so honest.

"I don't worry about myself that much," she finally said. "But I wonder…What it'd be like…Who'd be there…I worry about other people. Joe…Every night …I expected the call…It was…When it finally came…Part of me…Wasn't surprised…"

"I…I think…I can understand that. I…" Bobby wondered how much he should reveal. "I worry about getting a call like that about you…When I got that call…It was…They were the worst hours of my life."

"When I didn't get that call from you…That…That was bad…As bad as…"

Bobby didn't know what to say.

"And…And I still worry about getting a call about you," Alex said.

"I guess one person would show up at my funeral," Bobby said.

"Robert Goren! Don't do that!"

Bobby pulled his phone away from his ear.

"Don't you say things like that!" Alex shouted. "Even if only half the people who owe you or care about you show up, it would be the biggest…" She choked. "Are you that competitive, Goren? That you worry about the size of the crowd at your funeral?"

"I…I guess I must be thinking too much," Bobby stammered.

"Things like this," Alex said. "Make you think…Maybe it's a good thing."

"Maybe…" Bobby was grateful that she'd calmed down. "But I don't think I like what they make me think about."

"Yea…Hey…Thanks for letting me know I could call you…I can talk to you about things I can't with anyone else."

Bobby's heart jumped strangely. "Uh…Thank you for calling me…For trusting me…"

"Try to get some sleep," Alex said. "I'll see you tomorrow."

He didn't get much sleep that night. He lay on his back and stared at the ceiling and tried not to think of Alex or the dead policemen. And because he tried so hard not to think about these things, they were all he could think about. At some point, whether out of exhaustion or boredom, he fell into a daze that wasn't sleep but wasn't consciousness either. His radio brought him fully awake, and he stumbled from his bed. As he rode the subway he read the papers' accounts of the events of the previous day. It seemed the cops didn't know they faced an angry and violent man with a large gun. Alex's classmate never had a chance to draw his gun. The rookie managed to get his out of the holster before he was hit. The reports all noted that there would be an investigation as to why the officers weren't informed they were entering a dangerous situation, why the suspect had such large and powerful guns (he possessed a long and violent criminal record), and how things went so badly so quickly. The reports also wrote that the two cops were outstanding men devoted to their families and their jobs.

"They always are," Bobby thought, and remembered that Alex once commented that only good cops seemed to get killed.

Bobby arrived at Major Case at his usual early hour. The mood was dark, and it only grew darker as more members of the squad arrived.

"I managed to find my dress uniform," Nichols said as he passed by Bobby at the coffee machine. "It still fits. Helluva way to find out."

"Yea," Bobby said. "How's Wheeler?"

"Ok, from what I can tell…Eames?"

"Pretending to be tough…She's NYPD back at least three generations. But she lost her husband in a shooting when he was undercover. This sort of thing is hard on her."

Most of Major Case went through the day in a daze. Most of its members appeared to be attempting to avoid the same thoughts. Late in the afternoon, Ross appeared at Bobby's desk

"Thanks for volunteering to stay tonight…You and Nichols will be the only detectives here," the captain said. "And you'll be in charge since you outrank him…"

"I hope nothing happens," Bobby said. "I'm not sure I'd obey my own orders. But I promise to leave the place standing."

"Good," Ross said. "I have to tell you, Goren…I'm not looking forward to the next few days…"

"I don't think anyone is, Sir…"

END CHAPTER ONE


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

The next morning Bobby, his dress uniform offering not enough protection against the cold and wet, stood at attention outside the small Harlem church. Just as he'd decided not to attend the wake, he'd also decided to remain outside the church. Alex had entered with her two brothers who were cops. Not for the first time in his life, Bobby wished he wasn't so large and visible.

"Helluva thing," the cop standing to his right said.

"Yea," Bobby agreed.

"Makes you think…"

"Yea…"

"What unit you with?"

"Major Case."

"Oh…You guys get all the publicity…"

"Don't always want it…"

"Yea," the other cop said. "Hear you also get all the crazies and weirdos in the Department."

Bobby focused on the street in front of him. It was bad enough that he had a reputation as a weirdo; now it had spread to the entire squad. His experience at MacGuinness' funeral made him feel better about his decision to stay at One Police Plaza the next day during Sergeant Rocco's service. As he worked, he tried not to pay attention to the TV broadcasting the funeral. He did stop to watch the flag draped coffin carried into the church. Two older uniforms, unaware of Bobby's presence, stood in front of him.

"Didn't want to go, Eddie?" one asked the other.

"Went to the one yesterday," Eddie replied. "I went to the wake last night. Helluva thing, Tom."

"I thought I saw you last night. I went to the wake. I'm not much for church. The next time I'm in one will probably be for my funeral."

"Hope that's a long time away," Eddie said. He shook his head. "Stuff like this makes you thing…I gotta admit…If I wasn't so close to my pension…"

"Yea…I don't have long either," Tom said. "And if I was walking a beat…I'd be having serious second thoughts…I don't just want to fill up a uniform…I don't mind being in the bag, and I even still believe in the "Serve and Protect" stuff…But you start wondering about who you're serving and protecting."

"Yea," Eddie said. "And the stuff the Brass pulls. You know Goren…The big guy?"

"The weird, smart guy?"

Bobby froze. He knew he should at least let the cops know he was around, but he couldn't speak.

"That he is. And one of the best detectives on the force. I think maybe one of the best men. The fact Alex Eames is his partner says a lot. If I were a perp, Goren and Eames are the last two cops I'd want on my back. If I were in trouble, they're the first two I'd want helping me."

Bobby tried to understand the words of praise he heard.

"The Brass has never liked him. I've been at Major Case long enough to know some things. Whatever you've heard about Goren, if it comes from the Brass or a cop that doesn't know him, don't believe it," Eddie said.

"I heard a lot of rumors about him before I got here," Tom said. "Heard he got a couple of bad cops and a big time drug dealer when he was undercover. Any guy who gets rid of bad cops is good in my book."

Bobby carefully slipped back to his desk. "Maybe," he thought. "Maybe there are cops…"

Members of the squad began filtering in after the funeral. Many still wore their dress uniforms and grim faces. Alex, accompanied by Wheeler and Nichols, arrived. She wearily sat at her desk.

"Bad?" Bobby asked.

"Not good." Alex looked across the room at Megan Wheeler. "Poor kid…Looks like she's got the weight of the world on her…"

"You look like you're carrying a lot too," Bobby said gently.

"I think we're all carrying a lot today," Alex said.

A deep, long shadow covered the rest of the day. Everyone tried to deal with not only the loss of two good men, but the manifestation of a cop's worst fear. The Captain's "be careful" when he sent out officers rang deeper and truer than usual. Bobby watched all of this with jaded eyes. He knew this reaction would last for a couple of weeks. The memories and fears would fade away until the next shooting or accident, and the cycle would repeat. Bobby sat his pen down and rubbed his eyes.

"Hey," Alex asked. "You ok?"

"Just…All of this…It makes you think…"

"Sometimes you think so much that I can hear you," Alex said.

Bobby smiled wearily. "Yea…"

"Buy me a margarita tonight?" Alex asked. "We should be able to find some quiet, dark corner."

"That…That sounds good," Bobby said.

Ross showed no signs of trying to stop Major Case members from drifting away from the office early. Bobby and Alex encountered Zach Nichols and Megan Wheeler at the elevator. The quartet wasn't the last group of people to leave the squad room, but it was far from the first.

"I'm out of practice with this sort of thing," Nichols said. "I'm not sure what to do."

"And I haven't had a lot of practice…Which I guess is a good thing," Wheeler said. Her hands rested over her growing stomach, and Bobby suddenly thought that Wheeler might not return to the NYPD after the birth of her baby.

"You want to grab a drink?" Nichols asked. "Or better yet, some food?"

"Bobby and I know a good diner," Alex said. "It doesn't serve alcohol, which might be a good thing. The food's good."

"I thought you wanted a margarita," Bobby said.

"Right now," Alex said as she stepped on the elevator. "One wouldn't be enough…I'm not sure how many would be enough, and I don't think I want to find out."

Bobby led the way to the diner, which was close enough for a walk. Other cops who apparently needed or wished to avoid alcohol filled it. The four detectives found an empty booth, and Bobby apologetically slipped next to Alex and tried to keep his bulk from crushing her. They ate—or at least tried to eat—but only Wheeler really swallowed her food.

"Sorry," she said after a soup, salad, some of Alex's grilled chicken, parts of Nichols' veggie burger, and much of Bobby's pastrami disappeared inside her. "The kid's hungry…and doesn't care what she eats…"

"Remember those days, Bobby?" Alex asked. "I remember days where I ate my lunch, your lunch, and then sent you out for an afternoon snack."

"Like hobbits in THE LORD OF THE RINGS," Bobby smiled.

"What was that schedule? Morning breakfast…" Nichols said.

"Second breakfast," Wheeler said. "And luncheon…"

"Tea," Alex offerered.

"Supper and dinner if I remember right," Bobby said. "It's been a while since I read…"

"Great," Alex said. "I'm at the geek table."

"Just remember," Nichols said. "Geeks and nerds really run the world."

"All of this," Bobby said as he rotated his fork. "It…It makes you think about things…" He stopped, aware that he didn't know what everyone was thinking.

"Yea," Wheeler said eagerly, as if she was glad someone finally addressed the elephant sitting with them. "I gotta confess…I've been thinking about it a lot lately."

"We all think about it," Alex said.

"Yea," Nichols said after a moment. "I'm just getting used to thinking about it every day again."

Bobby continued to move his silverware around the table. "I…I don't think you ever get used to thinking about it. I'm not sure you should."

"But how…" Wheeler bit her lip.

"How do you do the job with it floating around in your head? I don't know." Bobby shook his head.

Alex studied her partner. They talked about many things, things she could only talk about with him. This was one of those subjects, but she realized she didn't really know how Bobby felt about it.

"I don't know," Megan said. "If I can do the job and have a kid…I don't know if I could do that to my kid."

Silence covered the table for several minutes.

"Look, Megan," Alex said. "Don't let anybody make any decisions for you. Don't let anyone tell you you're a coward because you want to do right by your kid. That's your priority."

"And you're certainly not a coward," Nichols said. "I'll testify to that."

"Thank you," Wheeler said.

"Right now," Nichols said. "I really don't have anyone to worry about besides myself. Maybe that's good."

"Yea," Bobby said as he rearranged his silverware. "I'm in that state too…Except…Maybe…For my partner…"

"Thank you," Alex said. "You're high on my list."

"Is that a good thing?" Nichols asked. "If you get too close to your partner?"

"Well, it's better than disliking your partner," Alex said, uncomfortable with the conversation's turn. "I can tell you that from experience…Some of the guys in Vice…"

Bobby, his mind turning to the partners who ignored him or dropped him, sat silently. He became aware that his table partners waited for him to say something.

"Sorry…Lost in my head," he said. "Which happens a lot…"

"Well," Wheeler said as she slipped out of the booth and left several bills on the table. "Time for me to go home and try to sleep. Thank you. All of this may have helped me be able to get some sleep."

"I'll walk with you until you get a cab," Nichols said. He pulled out his wallet and also dropped several bills on the table. "We square?"

"Yea," Alex said, checking the bill. "You've both probably left too much, but we'll give the waitress a good tip."

"Good," Nichols said. "You two take care."

Bobby nodded. "You too," Alex said.

Bobby and Alex sat silently as Nichols and Wheeler left. After a few moments, Alex looked up at Bobby.

"I never knew," she said softly. "That you thought about that kinda stuff…That you were…Afraid…"

He began moving his silverware again. "It's not so much that I'm afraid of getting killed," he said, looking the elephant squarely in the face. "As I am of getting hurt or not being able to help someone."

"Do you…Do you ever think…" Alex spun her empty coffee cup in her hands. "That the job isn't worth it?"

"Never the job," Bobby answered. "The stuff around the job…The stuff that keeps me from doing the job…Yea…That makes me wonder…But…Most of the time…I have a job that lets me protect people…Helps people…Lets me use my brain. And…And…" He swallowed. "It…I mean…I understand if it's different for you…"

"What do you mean?"

"You…You have a family…You have Nate and a life…"

"So…I'm not like you…I'm more valuable than you…"

"Everyone is more valuable than me…Especially you," Bobby said softly.

"How…How can you say that?" Alex struggled to control her voice.

"Because it's true. Let's face it , Eames…I'd be the last guy in the lifeboat."

"You wouldn't be anywhere near the lifeboat…I didn't know my partner was suicidal…"

Bobby stared at her. "Oh…Alex…I didn't mean…I…I'm not…I…I don't want to die…I'm careful…I don't rush into things…You know that…"

Alex calmed slightly. "It's just…It makes me so angry when other people attack you. To hear you say things…"

"It's not…It's not that I think I'm worthless or anything like that." Bobby struggled to explain himself. "It's…I'm supposed to protect people…"

"But what if the people aren't worth it? Or not grateful?"

"That…I can't make those distinctions," Bobby said. "We…We can't…We protect people…We save them…You hope that they're good people or will become good people…But we have to do what we do…"

Alex's anger cooled as he spoke. "I…I'm sorry…I know these things. I agree with you. It's just…"

"I know," Bobby said. "Like we keep saying…Something like this. It makes you think."

"I think I'll take a mental health day tomorrow…See Nate…Think about other things."

"That sounds like a good idea…I may do the same."

"If I'm going to do that, I need to get going."

Bobby walked Alex back to One Police Plaza to her car.

"You got a way home?" she asked as she unlocked the car.

"Yea." Bobby didn't tell her he was thinking about returning to Major Case to work. He suspected she knew that.

"Ok," Alex said. "I may not see you tomorrow. You take care of yourself. Try to stay out of trouble. Get some rest."

"I'll try." Bobby smiled.

Alex looked around the empty garage, hesitated, and faced Bobby. She stood on her toes, wrapped her arms around his neck, and gently hugged him.

"Remember," she said as she opened her door and slipped behind the wheel. "You're worth a lot…A lot…Think about that."

He tried not to think too much as he watched her drive away.

END

I suspect some were expecting something more dramatic and longer, but this came to me as something of a meditation.


End file.
